


Tea and No Sympathy

by Cluegirl



Category: The Avengers - Ambiguous Fandom
Genre: D/s, High School AU, M/M, Masochist Tony, Misuse of Yoga, Nerd/Jock negotiation, PWP, Some things I write purely for me, Spanking, Stone Top Steve, high school kids in sexual situations, stress positioning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-10
Updated: 2021-02-10
Packaged: 2021-03-16 19:02:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,286
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29337237
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cluegirl/pseuds/Cluegirl
Summary: Tony needs to pass Gym class.  Steve needs not to wring his neck while coaching his strength training.  This is their compromise.
Relationships: Steve Rogers/Tony Stark
Comments: 6
Kudos: 69





	Tea and No Sympathy

Tony was in hell. Absolute hell. And the sick part of it was, he’d asked to be put there. More than asked, he’d _begged_ for it. And more than that, he’d put himself into the situation where he needed to beg for it all by himself, and now the consequences were positively going to _kill_ him.

It was a culmination of the worst ideas Tony’d ever had, really. This was worse than all the spite-blowjobs he’d performed to get thrown out of private schools (four of those, plus one hand in the pants incident with someone who’d definitely been old enough to know better,) and it was worse than that time he hotwired the headmaster’s car so he could sneak out to a party on the college campus, and gotten his first hit of cocaine off the titties of a sorority girl who definitely hadn’t believed him when he’d said he was 18, but hasn’t seemed to care at the time. Hell, it was even worse than that time he’d insulted the math teacher’s basic algebra in front of the whole class once he’d finally washed out into public school.

But he’d swallowed his pride and asked for help. Begged for help. Then been something of a little bitch about taking the help he’d asked for. And now...

“Arm up, Stark,” Steve said mildly from behind his sketchbook, “your tea’s about to spill.”

And now the help had gotten all… complicated.

“If you spill it, we start over.” A warning more pointed this time. The pencil’s scratching stilled, and God, but Rogers was hot when he glared like that!

Biting back a groan, as well as about thirty or forty very pointed words that would _definitely_ make everything worse if he let them out, Tony lifted the arm that was balancing the full teacup on top of his tablet. His shoulders were screaming at him, his thighs trembling under the weight of his spread stance, and his extended arm felt like it had been on fire forever, but he managed to bring the liquid level inside the translucent china without sloshing any on the screen.

“Better,” Steve allowed, sparing him exactly one glance, and exactly half a smile, and yep, right on cue, Tony’s cock started suggesting that maybe things weren’t so bad after all. “Core muscles,” the golden haired sadist then reminded him as that damned pencil resumed scratching. “Using your back instead of your core’s why you keep falling off the rope in Gym class. Tighten up your belly, tuck your hips forward, and it’ll hurt less.”

_Failing grade_ , Tony chanted to himself as he fought to comply, _failing grade, failing grade, failing grade, dad’ll yank you back home and hire a tutor if you bring home a fucking F, you fucking moron oh god this hurts why do I have to fucking do this?_

“Because Rhodey said he was gonna wring your neck if he had to keep coaching you on weights like normal people do,” Steve’s mild voiced reminder let Tony know his internal narrative had slipped out on him again. “And I may owe him, and occasionally think you’re cute, but I don’t need to be treated to your rich-little-asshole act when I’m trying to do you a favor,” he set the sketchbook aside now, and those arclight blue eyes fastened on Tony’s with an utter lack of pity as Steve uncoiled from the sofa like a rising storm god. “So since _you_ apparently need more motivation than just a passing grade in Gym class to get your muscle tone up to par, here we are. And where we go from here depends on you, but I should say that you haven’t actually earned the kind of reward our last session ended in,” he lifted Tony’s arm a little more as he leaned in close, “yet.”

And oh look, there went the core muscles. And his still slightly bruised thigh muscles. And his belt-striped glutes. And some deeper muscles that had nothing whatsoever to do with climbing a rope, but a lot to do with really wanting to climb a stone cold hearted, cruel as ice and twice as lickable smartass, toppy jock right where he stood…

Once he had permission to put the teacup down, anyway.

“Is it,” Tony murmured, keeping his voice absolutely level, and completely respectable, “cool enough yet?”

He could feel the smile twist against the side of his neck as Steve set his broad, hot hands on Tony’s hips and rumbled, “Is it cool enough yet… what?”

Tony’s cock lurched unhelpfully in his shorts again, even as his brain cursed him for putting himself into this (delicious) torture. He wouldn’t say it. He wouldn’t! It was too much!

Steve’s breath heated the nape of his neck in a sigh though, raising the fine hairs there to trembling attention, and Tony found himself yelping, “Is it cool enough yet Captain?”

“Don’t know,” Steve mused, chin resting on Tony’s shoulder now, “Bring it here so I can check. Slowly,” he warned, even as Tony’s elbow wobbled with eager relief, “With control. Be a shame for you to spill it and have to start over again now.”

This time Tony did whimper. But he also put every ounce of willpower he had into smoothly bending his elbow and wrist, drawing the tablet in from full extension while keeping it carefully level on his palm. When finally, the ridge of plastic touched his own naked chest, Tony dared to breathe, dared to hope.

Steve’s long arm reached around him, over his bicep and across his chest to pluck the cup from its saucer, and bring it past Tony’s ear for a sip. It was like he was a doll, or a child. Or a wiry, whip-thin nerd who’s spent most of his childhood building computers instead of playing outside, and now had the body to prove it. And a hard-on that felt like he could use it to pound nails through concrete, too. Tony was never going to stop being freaked out by how incandescently _hot_ he found it when Steve Captain Of The Wrestling Team Rogers stopped being polite and went over all growly, possessive and dangerous. 

It was almost as weird as the way the aching muscles, shaking limbs, and burning humiliation that made him utterly, ferociously useless in the Gym class he’d insisted on taking, led to him being utterly, ferociously, helplessly aroused when it was this intensely gorgeous asshole dishing it out in a private session. Tony wasn’t going to think about that though, because the unbuttoned collar of Steve’s cheap cotton shirt was pressing tight against his naked back, and he could feel the bobbing ridge of Steve’s throat against his shoulder as the cup tilted, and the tea drained away. 

He’d done it. He’d fucking done it! He had mastered the Full Extension Tea Challenge at fucking last!

As if hearing the thought, Steve finished the chug with a sigh, and smacked his lips as he stood upright. “Good job,” Steve said, drawing Tony up out of the shaky half-lunge warrior two pose he’d been holding forever and five hours at least. “Ready to do the left side now?”

Boneless and quivering against Steve’s chest, Tony couldn’t help whining. “Couldn’t I please just have another spanking instead?”

He felt laughter under his sweating back, and a moment later, he was swept up off his feet, like the noodly little nerd he was. “Sure, Tony,” his beautiful tormentor allowed, carrying him back to the sofa, and the belt still draped over its back, “You can have a little reward before we start again.”

Oh, it was going to kill him. But die happy, he would.

**Author's Note:**

> Well, my Polonium 210 Poppies, it's been a hell of a week. This little pwp was inspired by Chibisquirt, and the kink prompt generator, and my need not to chew through my own wrist to get away from RL. It is unbetaed, barely edited, about as deep and thoughtful as a saucer full of strychnine, and I dare to hope you'll like it anyway.
> 
> If you do, please tell me so in the comments. Love and antivenins to you all, my beloved bog blossoms.


End file.
